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I was about to ring the doorbell again when the door swung open. A tall man stood there, regarding me with calm curiosity.

“You must be Max.” His gaze dropped to the plastic bag in my hand. “You didn’t have to bring your own dinner,” he said in a mild tone. “We do have food.” Then he smirked. “Although whether it’ll be edible remains to be seen.”

I smiled. “And you must be Sam, Quinn’s gatekeeper.”

Sam’s mouth twitched. “Something like that.”

Then Quinn appeared from behind him, wearing that same bright, alert expression he got when something mattered.

He’s nervous.

“Hi.” I kept my voice low and even.

Quinn smiled. “You made it.”

Sam cleared his throat. “Walthamstow isn’t exactly the back end of beyond.” He stepped aside, still watching me. “Well, you’d better come in.” I crossed the threshold, and Sam closed the door behind me. “Shoes off or are we pretending to be civilised?”

I glanced down. “Shoes off seems wise.” I bent to remove my boots.

“Excellent answer.” A woman with black hair tied back appeared in the doorway to the left, her eyes shining. I held out the bag, and she took it, peering inside. Her face lit up. “Wine. Very civilised.”

“I brought rosé. It seemed a safe bet, not knowing what we were eating.”

Quinn glanced towards the rear of the hallway. “We don’t know either, but there isn’t a bio hazard warning on the kitchen door and no plumes of acrid green smoke escaping, so I think we’re safe.”

I laughed. “That’s encouraging.” I held out my hand. “If Maya’s in the kitchen, then you must be Jess.”

“Guilty.” We shook.

Quinn hovered nearby, close enough that I could feel the warmth of him. He gestured towards the room Jess had emerged from. “Would you like a drink? I don’t think we’re ready to eat yet.”

“No, we are not,” a voice hollered from the kitchen. There was a pause. “Nibbles are in the living room.”

Quinn bit his lip. “I’d eat a lot of those if I were you.”

“I heard that!”

Jess rolled her eyes. “We’ll be safer in the living room. She can’t throw utensils at us in there.”

From the kitchen came the unmistakable clang of something hitting a saucepan. “I heard that too!”

Quinn winced. “Maya’s very attached to her cookware.”

Jess clutched the bag. “I’ll go put these in the fridge.”

Sam followed us into the living room, then pointed to the coffee table. “Help yourself. What can I get you to drink?”

“Water is fine.” I sat on the couch, and when Quinn didn’t move, I glanced at the seat cushion next to me. A heartbeat later, he joined me, hands clasped in his lap.

Sam paused halfway to the kitchen, his gaze flickering from Quinn’s hands to my face. He nodded once, as if something had just confirmed a theory.

“Water,” he said, then disappeared into the kitchen.

More noise filtered into the room. A cupboard door slammed. Maya muttered something about garlic.

I gave Quinn an inquiring look. “Is it always like this?”

He chuckled. “Pretty much.”